


Stitch by Stitch

by melodiouswanderer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Frankenstein!AU, Multi, graphic content, smut comes later, some gore, will add tags with time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 22:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16504334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodiouswanderer/pseuds/melodiouswanderer
Summary: The Witch of Daibazaal has found the key to ressurection and immortality, after years of tests and waiting patiently for the right time, the right subject. Thus Lotor receives a new bodyguard.





	Stitch by Stitch

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic has been in my files for a while now, and I’ve been working on it for months. I was originally going to post on Halloween but eh, better late than never. I plan to make this a five part fic. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! And has not been beta read

Haggar was unusually quiet as of late.

The lack of speaking has left a heavy tension as she walked through darkened stone walls of the palace. The servants and soldiers alike eye her with wariness, fear and hatred, only growing with each step she took towards the doors to her labs that lie beneath the ancient castle. She ignored the whispers amongst them as she gave the doors a pull, causing them to swing out like arms ready to embrace her like a lover.

With a swift whoosh of air they close after her almost silently when she enters.

She gently ran her finger tips along the walls, her fingers chapped and slightly tender from her current work with her nails scrapping over the old stone. Purple illuminates her path as torches lit themselves before her and she almost basks in the dim lighting. The whispers of shadows shift and tremble around her when she walked further down, hearing thunder in the distance as the dark clouds that have blot out the stars begin to role in.

The sweet relief of finishing her work was just within reach. Just a little more...just a little more and she'll have it all ready. She had to have it ready.

But what was more perturbing to those within the palace, more than anything she was thought to be doing, was the lack of concern from the Emperor himself. When questions were asked the subject was changed. When they tried to bring their concerns to him he cast them aside like they had come to him with childish demands. And those who accused her of foul play well...they were not seen thereafter.

...

"What do you mean it's missing?"

Her voice almost echoes through the quiet morgue, if not for the soft sound of the needle as it punctures the skin between the pectorals of the cadaver that lay beneath the Coroner's fingers. He pauses a moment, lifting his head up but doesn't turn his eyes to her.

"As I said ma'am, when I checked there was no body. It was completely empty," he sighed as he returned back to his work. After all the mortician preferred them back in one piece.

He ignored her heels when they clicked so sharply. He could feel the disbelief and slight anger that rolls off this Altean woman as he tries to finish the sewing. It radiates off her like the heat of the morgue's lamps with how close she had come to him.

"That cannot be. I saw it loaded. We all did."

"Then...I do not know what to tell you, Princess," He said gently, "...Perhaps speak eith the Coroner in the next town? Perhaps it was misplaced there."

She shook her head, shimmery white curls bouncing slightly as angry tears well up in the woman's eyes, "No, the one who brings the bodies...he's an old acquaintance he couldn't have misplaced it. Not after we...we..." She took in a deep ragged breath, "..please excuse me, sir..." she took in a shaky breath as she picks up her handkerchief to wipe off the mascara that dribbles down her cheeks, "Forgive my anger, it has been a rough time for my friends and I..."

The pale lilac galra turned to face her quietly,, "You are not the first grieving person to enter these halls, Princess," A sigh leaves him as he pulls his glasses off and cleans them, "...I will speak with the other coroners and attempt to locate it. If not...well. You may have to improvise with just the memories of him."

He watched her a moment with her head bowed as the light illuminates off her. Standing before him with her black cape and hood up as she looks down.

"...Was he very special to you, Princess?"

She sniffled, "...He was...one of my closest and dearest friends. A good man with a good heart..." she licked her lips a moment, before she turns away, "Please inform me if the body is found or not...we would like to hold the funeral as soon as possible..."

"Of course Princess. I promise," he turns away back to his work again.

She sniffed, "...What is your name good sir?"

He paused a moment, hand poised with the needle over the threaded skin of this cadaver.

"You may refer to me as Ulaz."

...

When he enters the darkened halls below, a strange comfort fills him. The soft voices that creep through the halls bring a sense of ease to him now as he looks at the scratched up walls left by her nails. He reached up slowly to touch over the familiar scratches that mirror his shoulders with a pleased sigh and a slight chill up his spine.

He stops just before the edge of the large staircase of stone, torches of lavender flames lighting his way down. If he had been anyone else—a servant, a civilian, even a soldier—the sight would have sent a sense of caution and possibly fear shivering through him.

But for the Emperor this was an almost nostalgic scene.

Yellow eyes watch him as he heads to where the squealing spin of a wheelbarrow being pushed faintly sounds across the halls. A ominous glow illuminates through the cracks of the Lab's doors, eerily joined by soft humming of an old lullaby. With a soft mewl a slim, nimble altean long stripe cat came out from the shadows to stare at him a moment. Then with a growl the feline turns to the doors and with a soft nudge the cat opens them.

"Kova..."

Purring sounded as the Emperor opened the door the rest of the way. He is met with the sharp scent of cleanser fluids, old blood and rotting flesh before he sees the tables all covered by stained cloth, save for one. The witch stood beside it as she slowly lifts up her findings with a strained hiss.

Kova sits on the emptied slab, watching his owner as she struggles. Her hands shook with strain, knuckles pale as she tried to keep hed grip on the bag.

The Emperor almost rushes forwards with his arms stretched out as if to catch her should she fall. But upon seeing her set the bag down with a heavy sigh he stopped and simply observed her for now. He always was fascinated by the work performed down her and he couldn't help turning his head to look at her...failed projects.

Covered by the stained cloth and showing no signs of life. The only thing that alerted anyone of what these things were, was the scent of decay. Even with all the cleanser it could never complete hide the faint smell.

"This one...this one is it...Yes this one will do..." Haggar had started her murmuring, "He will be perfect...I know he will be...yes yes yes..." the shadows around her seemed to creep softly as she pulls a tray to her with a soft clatter.

"Are you sure?" Zarkon tilted his head at her curiously, intrigued by her rambling.

A huff leaves her as she picks up a sewing needle, lightly tapping it at the tip of her finger. A ghost of a smile forms on her face when a little need of glowing blood dribbles down. She puts it back on the tray before she turns to the Emperor.

Those blank yellow eyes seemed to glow with slight glee, "As sure as the sun rising."

She pulled the bag close to her, slowly pulling it open and pours the contents out.

"Hmmm...An interesting choice, Haggar. Isn't he the young guard who took the blow for the Princess?"

Claws brushed the dark hair away from the corpse's opened, dulled eyes.

...

The guard's almost burst out of their armor when a sharp cry sounds from behind the silver doors. They turns their heads slightly, listening for any further noises of distress, their hands anxiously twitching by their weapons.

The cry went quiet as fast as it had sounded.

For a moment, the guards share a look of relief before the chamber doors slowly creak open and a pair of tired purple eyes peak out throug the small crevice at the two Galra standing guard before opening further to let the resident through. The guards straighten their postures and looked ahead out of respect.

The Prince was still in his nightwear after all.

The young man was unlike any of the others here. His skin was a lavender color, a dead give away of his Galra heritage. Upon closer look there was a sharpness to his teeth and his eyes dilated to slits instead of smaller orbs. If it wasn't for his long white hair and the faint outline of marks under his eyes he could pass off as a pure Galra.

Alas the fates design was his downfall amongst one half of his lineage.

He doesn't look back at his guards nor does he say a word as he shuffled a bit towards an open window that showed the thunderous, dark clouds with flashes of lightning in the distance, It brought him a slight ease as he tries to calm from the fading memory of his terrible nightmare. The soft tendrils of fear and anxiety lingered as he tries to take in breaths of the heavy air.

A breeze slowly blows the lace curtains up with the bottoms almost touching the wall when they sway. He reached up slowly with shaking hands to grip the drapes and thus giving the guards a full view of his earlier punishment:

Where his claws should be, were small bandages over his fingertips. They tremble from pain as he tries to keep his breathing steady, holding in tears. His fingers ache down to the bone from the tips to the knuckles. He took in a deep breath and looked down a moment as the pain brings him back to reality.

"...Prince Lotor?"

He turned his head slightly with his braided hair swaying between his shoulders. His ear gives a slight twitch to show he hears them.

One guard, a female with some fluff around her ears, walked forwards, "Do you require the Doctor, my Prince?"

He tensed his jaw to bite down on a snappish reply. It's not their fault he was in such a pitiful state. Of course they'd show concern considering what was done to him.

The curtains slide from his sore fingers when the breeze stops, before he hides the damage in his sleeves.

"No. Thank you," He turns around slowly, "...Please remember to wake me up early tomorrow for the Princess' visit...I want to be waiting for her when she arrives. That way we can leave together for...for the..." he slowly closed his eyes, unable to bring himself to say it.

It had been truly tragic news to hear what had happened to his betrothed's friend. Though he himself barely knew the man, he could only imagine what she was going through. It hurt him to see her in such a state of mourning.

When he enters his bed chamber, he stops and glares down at his fingers. He manages to push back tears as he remembered the look of utter disdain his Father gave him when the first class was ripped clean off by one of those wretched Druids. All because he had shoved the Witch away and knocked her over when she had tried to push the loos bang from his face.

He didn't know why he was surprised his father had given him such a severe punishment. Perhaps he had just been a bit too optimistic. He closed his eyes and lowered his ears in pain as he crawls into bed and sniffled a little. Stars the idea of seeing Allura crying made his heart hurt worse than what was done to his fingers

_How am I going to hold her hand?_

...

The arm is held tightly to the shoulder as the needle plunges through the skin.

Haggar's fingers worked quickly as she was murmuring in ancient tongues, the thread glowing an ominous violet as Zarkon held the pieces in place. The dim light of the torches causes the shadows to move and shift as the flame did. The air smelled of heavy rains about to come as her long fingers give a final tug in tying the needle before biting down on the string and breaking it.

The Emperor watches in complete morbid fascination as her fingers lightly move along the long line of stitching on the corpses chest where new organs had been replaced. She checked over her work, meticulous and thorough as the distant thunder sounds. She slowly raised her hooded head up and looked upwards at the ceiling window.

"Mmmm...get me the vials there..." she pointed towards the mildewed, old wooden shelf with different bottles and beakers with concoctions alchemists and chemists could only dream of concocting.

The vials she pointed at were filled with a glowing, purple liquid. When he picked them up, Zarkon had to pause a moment when he felt them pulse against his palm. He tilted his head softly at them in pure curiosity before he hears Haggar growl softly.

"Hurry, hurry, before the storm passes..." she starts forwards to the machine, with her shoulders hunched as she starts to whisper to herself and motions at him to follow her, "We cannot pass this opportunity, no no this is our best specimen yet and we can't let this opportunity pass us by...it took so long to find the right parts intact and keep them in prime condition...we must hurry or all my hard work searching will have been for not..."

He follows without pause after her. If he were a sane, or even a half-sane man, he might have faltered or even had second thoughts. Alas, his sanity was one thing he had long ago given away when his wife was no longer of this world.

Haggar opens a latch on the side of the machine, showing intricate mechanisms foreign to the Galra eye. Runes glow weakly on the piping as the thunder begins to grow louder. Her blankets yellow eyes glow as she held her hand out for the vials and begins to open them before slipping them under one of the three pipes.

Once those are secured, Zarkon walked to the levers and pulled them down to open the roof above.

The rain came pouring down as Haggar made her way back down to her subject and slowly attaches a head brace around the subject"s cranium. A shiver ran through her as she could already feel the energy flowing from within the machine.

A smile of mad glee stretches over her chapped lips as the hair that frames her face and hangs out of the head becomes drenched in the pouring rain. She feels the excitement beginning to build up as lightly broke across the dark sky above them as her hands close over the vice attached to the machine.

"Just one bolt...one powerful bolt..." she whispered softly to herself.

...

Allura stared at her reflection as her mother gently combs her hair.

Her dazzling blue eyes were bloodshot and empty of emotioned. Her cheeks were wet as she grips the handkerchief in her hand. Her mother's gentle fingers lightly tug her hair back to carefully braid it for bed. The mice were sitting on the desk and trying to comfort the princess as best as any mice could.

Melenor watched her daughter sadly, while trying to keep her temper in check with the morticians and their clumsiness. For all they knew the body had been dropped amongst the unmarked graves, never to be found again. It only left them with an empty coffin and robbed them of a final goodbye for the deceased's friends.

Once she finished braiding the soft hair, Melenor carefully wrapped the braid around her daughter's head before she clips it in. She then looked at her daughter in the mirror before slowly pulling her into a gentle, firm hug.

"Shhhhhh...shhhh shhhh..." she kissed her daughter's head as a weak sob left her, "I know my darling, I know..."

The Princess pushed her face into her mother's chest, wetly warming the silk with her tears.

She can still remember what had killed her dear bodyguard and companion: a poisoned knife from a duel with gladiator Myzax. It had started as a challenge. Supposedly it was going to be a battle of skill and honor between the two former champions of the ring in Daibazaal. Shiro he fought so valiantly and won the fight for all of them.

She could still hear Keith and Matt's cheering, Pidge climbing on to Lance's back and shouting in utter excitement as Hunk was doing a happy dance. Allura herself could remember that relief and joy at seeing him win and wishing Lotor was there to enjoy it with her.

That is before Shiro had collapsed. Never would that haunting image leave her mind: the dark foam rising from his mouth, his eyes growing bloody as he chokes for air. The panicked screaming that left their group of friends as the doctors had run down to try and save him.

The moment that her heart had sunken and broke when they had announced he was dead was forever scarred into her memory.

She sniffs as her soaked handkerchief is gently tugged from her hands before her mother's lightly wipes her eyes. Melenor's eyes are soft and sympathetic as she cleans her daughter's face up.

"You need to rest now, my little lioness...you'll want to be well rested when the Galra Prince accompanies us..."

_Lotor..._

Her dear and kind betrothed. A small little candlelight in this dark night of a time that threatened to consume her and make her lost within. She allowed her mother to gently lead her away from her mirror and to her bed.

"You...do want Lotor there with you, correct?" Melenor pulled the covers back for her daughter as she slowly slips into bed and lays down on the soft silk sheets.

Allura only nodded. Her voice was hoarse from crying on the way back from the morgue after Ulaz's news.

A powerful crack of thunder causes the two women to jump on slight alarm before lightning breaks the sky open as it struck down in the South. The Queen walked to the windows and pulls the curtains closed before turning to her daughter.

"...Try to sleep my darling. You're father and I are just down the hall if you need us," Melenor leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead.

She watched her mother as she lowers the lights with a soft movement of her hand before she made her exit. Allura looked around her room a moment as the dim blue light casts little shadows before her mice go to rest beside her on the pillow. It earned them a weak smile before thunder sounded again.

What a horrible night after such a horrible day.

...

When the bolt struck the machine, she felt the surge of power coursing through her and into the corpse under her hands.

The current was a deep, rich violet color that sparks along the cords as it goes through her hands. The energy from the activated machine was almost too much and yet not enough as Haggar began to shake from the power that flows through her fingertips.

The subject began to shake and twitch on the table. The mismatched arm's fingers twitch softly.

Zarkon watched from the sidelines as Kova was rested on his shoulders. The two watch intently for any signs of strain or agony from the Witch. Her tall form was surrounded in purple electic streams that form an aura of violet around her body as she hunches over her long awaited experiment.

His claws dig into the railing in his hands from anticipation and some excitement at what was happening.

If they succeeded in this endeavor tonight then they may have found a way to immortality.

A scream ripped from Haggar as the energy starts to grow too potent. Her hands began to shake as the body under her seizes and flinches from the shocks. She leaned over it until her face was close to the subject's as she tried to keep herself from falling from place. She couldn't move not yet, not now. She had to keep going until the energy was completely depleted.

Her eyes fo us on the face under hers.

Such a handsome young man this one must have once been when alive. The sharp face was of someone who had seen so many terrible things and yet there was still a kind softness to the features.

She took in a deep breath before growling as her eyes glow bright.

The Machine gives off a powerful stream of light that has Zarkon raising his arm to cover his face before he heard the shout of exertion turn to one of pain.

"HO—!" He turns his face when a powerful wave of alchemist energy pulses through the lab. It knocked over tables and some shelves, breaking beakers, vials and bottles around them.

Almost like how it had happened, the light died quickly.

When he raised his head enough to look, he saw Haggar sitting away from the slab and leaning back against the wall. She was breathing heavily as she twitched softly from the powerful transfer.

She took a moment as her ears were ringing as she was disoriented for just a moment. The room seemed to be shifting and moving a bit as she tried to refocus a moment before she begins to hear again.

When her vision clears she sees her Emperor standing over her and offering his hand to her quietly. She blinked slowly at the offered limb before she shakily takes it with a grunt. He pulls her up gently and keeps her from losing her footing before they turn to the subject.

Immediately she limped over with Zarkon trying to keep her steady but keep a respectful distance. After all Haggar was not a helpless damsel.

She looks down at the body with wide eyes and baited breath. His eyes were now closed as his body had stilled once again.

Minutes passed as she watched him intently before she slowly begins to slump in defeat. She bites her bottom lip and lowers her ears under the hood. All that work...all that time and waitined for this night...

Theres a sudden little movement. Subtle but noticeable from the corner of her eye.

Haggar looked down his arm and at his twitching fingers with wide eyes. She held her breath and swallowed thickly as she stares at the hand slowly moving before she turns to the face.

Zarkon looked over her shoulder and followed her gaze as he held his breath. So close...they were so close...!

There's a slight spark of purple by the subject's head before his eyes snapped open. They were mismatched eyes, one a light silver grey and the other near black in color with purple pupils. The eyes look around slowly at the lab as head shakes with each movement slightly. The body had not moved in so long the movements were a bit shaky.

When those eyes land on the Witch and the Emperor they blink in utter confusion.

He took in his first breath.


End file.
